Corrupted Childhood
by Electra Moon
Summary: Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern was a monster ever since he was born, right? Wrong. A short story of how eight year old Jonathan's childhood became corrupted and inevitably ruined. "No one loves you Jonathan. You are a monster. Only I care for you truly."


Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern sat on a hillside near the small cottage where he lived, gazing at The Demon Towers of Alicante in the distance, and absentmindedly began to run his fingers on the blunt edge of his seraph blade. He had been trained to wield weapons such as the one he held now as soon as he developed a mind of his own.

At eight years of age, he was already able to successfully identify and use nine runes from The Gray Book whereas other eight year old Shadowhunters weren't even capable of using at least two.

His father, Valentine Morgenstern would be home soon. After spending a fortnight with Angel Boy he would often visit Jonathan and stay for a maximum of two days – maybe even three days if he was lucky.

Jonathan treated those days like treasured gold. It was his chance to prove his father that he was worthy of being his son. Unfortunately for him, every time Valentine did come home he would often scowl at Jonathan, forcing him to train harder until his aching bones would near breaking point. He was cruel and ruthless, showing no remorse whatsoever.

Sometimes, Jonathan would wonder if Valentine ever gave the same treatment to Angel Boy. He probably didn't since he was the favourite son even if he wasn't the real one.

_"Jonathan!"_ A familiar voice reached Jonathan's ears and he turns around to face his father.

_"Good evening father."_ His eyes found comfort in the ground below him, unable to meet his father's eyes.

_"What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be training?"_

_"I know father. I was just-"_ Jonathan paused and took a deep breath. _"I was hoping if you can tell me more about my mother and how she died."_

For a split second Jonathan swore he saw Valentine's eyes flash furiously but instead he gave him an uneasy smile. _"Look Jonathan. Your mother isn't dead."_

Jonathan's eyes lit up with shock; his lower lip trembled slightly. _"She- She isn't?"_

_"No Jonathan she isn't. I don't even know who gave you the idea to think that."_

_"If she's still alive then why isn't she here with me? Is she with that other boy?"_ His hands immediately clenched into fists. Angel boy was already his father's favourite. Now he was taking his mother too!

_"No. You see Jonathan, when you were born your mother left you. She abandoned you and ran away."_

Jonathan couldn't reply. His dry throat was beginning to form a lump and his eyes were glazed over as he neared the brink of crying. This however, went unnoticed by Valentine as he continued to fill morbid thoughts into his son's head.

_"Your mother hated you. She still hates you."_

_"You're lying."_ The words were spat out even before Jonathan had the time to think about it. He shut his eyes closed and readied himself for the impact of a punch to his face but no hit ever came. Cautiously he opened his eyes only to see the same pair staring back at him disappointedly.

Valentine had now kneeled down to his son's height, placing both his hands firmly on Jonathan's shoulders. _"No one loves you, Jonathan. You are a monster. Only I care for you truly."_

The tears were held back as the eight year old nodded, swallowing the lump his throat. He began to make his way into the cottage when his father stopped him. _"Jonathan?"_

_"Yes father."_ His voice sounded higher than usual.

_"Don't ever mention your mother in front of me again. Do you understand?"_

_"Yes father."_

_"Good. Now get to bed. It's getting late."_ And with that Jonathan ran past Valentine, into the cottage. He threw his seraph blade onto the table, took his shoes and socks off and clambered into bed, not bothering to get changed.

Jonathan couldn't take it anymore. A hollow feeling clung onto his heart. Never in his life had he felt so cold. Anger, frustration and envy coursed through his veins overtaking other emotions such as love and happiness. He cried for his mother, who had abandoned him. He cried for his father, who felt nothing but disappointment for him. And finally he cried for himself, the boy who had a corrupted childhood. The tears cascaded down his cheeks until he could cry no more. That was the last time he ever cried for he was no longer the true Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern. A monster was born. And it had taken his place.


End file.
